Dr Bla

exposed timber walls of the cabin. Outside, the mountain twilight had bled

r armchair, his shoulders locked like iron cables. He was staring down at

voice tight and defensive, setting the cerami

de his head. I flipped open a fresh, crisp page in my leather-bound notebook, the scratch of my pen rhythmically breaking the

s nothing to talk about. They're just nightmares. Brain static,

ight of my undivided attention. "Especially when they involve running barefoot through freezing timberland, feeling the snow slice

comfortably in the seat, his muscles tensing as if pre

looked up, pinning him in place with unyielding clarity. "When you s

through the sterile chill of the arena air, the vivid crimson line against the brilliant white ice, and that horrifyi

more," he

shake. He locked his fingers together tightly in his la

my mind. I'm sitting in a secluded cabin in the middle of nowhere, talking to a stranger

folded my hands. "You're awakening. For twenty-four years, your human upbringing, your daily routines, and your conscious mind kept your dormant side locked deep in a basement. But traum

, mocking every rule of reality

on he utterly hated showing, his voice cracking slightly on the edges. "How do I mak

es. "You learn to coexist with it. Because if you try to cage it back up again

ocating, feeling heavier than the thick

ancient pines loomed like silent sentinels, their dark branches catching the moonlight where the snow piled high. Somewhere out

red it. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, a sudden sur

he territorial warning, I stood up from my desk and walked slowly across the room, and stopped a few feet away from his cha

shoulders. "Realizing that everything you thought defined you - your career, yo

ely a low rumble. "I bled for it. I sacrificed relationships, social life, sleep, peace of mind, everything. All so I cou

u've been carrying in your bloodline all along. The discipline, the hyper-focus, the sheer physical dominance that made you an elite hock

t! So instead of a professional athlete, I'm a genetic anomaly hiding out i

it or not. You can keep fighting your own body until it forces another violent explosion like the one in the arena, and next time, the c

st the leather headrest, the restless, primal a

g his eyes, knowing that once he spoke the words, the

ly as I walked back toward my desk. "Out there in the woods. No cam

, listening to the wind rattle the heavy glass of the window, a